


Starkiller's Pet

by partialresonance



Series: Comfort in Quarantine [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Concussed Flirting, Gingerpilot, Hurt Armitage Hux, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Resistance Is Not Nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: Prompt by @DarthAstris on Twitter: "Hux is taken back to the Resistance after he puts himself as the spy, but some less scrupulous Resistance members take him away for “interrogation”, that is, until Poe finds out and saves him (and beats their asses for sinking so low)."
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: Comfort in Quarantine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672642
Comments: 29
Kudos: 149





	Starkiller's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kind of a simplified version of the prompt, hope it works for everyone anyway! XD

Poe is on his way back to his quarters after a long day of drills with his squadron when the sound of scuffling feet piques his interest. The corridors of the Resistance base are quiet and nearly deserted; he was the last one in the hangar, working on _Black One_ with BB-8 and then simply enjoying the solitude after he sent the droid off to recharge for the night. He’s exhausted and eyes the door to his quarters with longing, but when he hears a muffled shout his eyebrows shoot up and he starts moving carefully towards the sound.

Tension raises the hair on the back of his neck as his quiet steps take him closer to the commotion. He doesn’t come down this way very often—the last time had been a visit to their prisoner-spy, General Hux, who after defecting from the First Order had been put up in quarters that could only really be called a cell because of the doors that locked from the outside.

Leia had deemed it important for Poe to hear a few details from their spy in person before the next mission. It hadn’t been an unpleasant visit; Poe had been surprised to find that he actually enjoyed Hux’s company. The man grew flustered easily from Poe’s teasing and it led him to blush attractively. For all the Starkiller has done to the galaxy, he has a sort of naivety that Poe finds—stars-damn-it—charming.

He hasn’t told anyone this, of course. The mood around the base tends toward openly hostile regarding the man they all saw as a genocidal maniac. Poe, personally, feels nothing but sorrow when he reviews holo footage of the General’s Starkiller speech—there is a closeup of the man’s face as the red light sears the horizon behind him, his eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together and lips quivering in unmistakable terror. The expression haunts Poe.

Besides, the Resistance has won, and Hux has lost everything. He’s bereft of his command, his status, his starship, the only life he’s ever known. The only thing left to him is his First Order uniform and he wears it like a coat of armor the few times he ventures out of his quarters under guard. Poe just doesn’t see the point in kicking someone when they’re down.

So it’s with increasing dread coiling heavy and leaden in his stomach that Poe rounds the corner and sees three men dragging a slim, dark-clad figure bodily out of his quarters.

Poe’s heart clenches and he freezes for a beat. Part of him doesn’t want to believe what he’s seeing. He only vaguely recognizes the Resistance men—one of them is older, with a grizzled visage and wearing a snarl. The other two look painfully young. The figure is unmistakably Hux, twisting in their grip, his black-booted feeling scuffling in panic against the floor as the two younger men drag him out of the doorway by his arms and hair.

After dumping him on the floor they immediately set to kicking him, swift and vicious strikes with their boots while the older man looks on in feral satisfaction.

“ _HEY!_ ” The shout tears out of Poe’s chest and before he can even think he’s running into the fray. One of the young men whips his head around and takes off with a frightened yelp as Poe careens towards them. The older man backs off a few steps but otherwise stands his ground while the second young man gets in as many kicks as he can before Poe barrels into him.

He tackles the other man to the ground and they go down hard. Poe focuses on restraining him, locking his arms around the man’s torso and trapping his arms by his side. He doesn’t want to hurt his own people but he’s not going to stand by and watch them gang up on anyone. His blood is singing in his ears and he’s breathing heavily as he pins the younger man to the ground.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”

“That fucker deserves it!” The young man elbows Poe in the stomach and manages to slip out of his grip. Poe staggers to his feet, putting himself between the attackers and the still form of Hux.

“No one deserves this!” Poe jabs his finger in the air when the men start to close in on him. His stance is wide and defensive; he’s not backing down an inch. “We’re supposed to be _better_ than this. If Leia saw this she’d pull you from duty and throw you in a cell herself. And she’ll hear about this, I swear it.” He locks his gaze on the older man after seeing the younger start to waver. “Seriously, pal, for your sake you’d better get out of here. Don’t make it any worse for yourself.”

The younger man finally breaks, backing away while running two hands through his hair, shaking at the mere mention of Leia. He turns and jogs away while throwing nervous glances over his shoulder.

The older man holds Poe’s gaze for a long moment, long enough that Poe has started to prepare himself for another fight by the time he finally relents with a sneer.

“So you’re the Starkiller’s pet, now? I know who you are, Dameron. I’ll tell everyone how you’ve got a soft spot for that sociopath _.”_

_“_ Good! You do that.” Poe doesn’t give a flying kriff what people think of him. He knows what’s right, and viciously beating a prisoner (who has been _helping_ the Resistance war effort, by the way) is so far on the other side of it that he doesn’t have to give it a second thought. The man makes a final rude gesture at him before he slips away, leaving Poe standing over Hux with his hands on his hips, breathing hard.

He doesn’t move for a beat, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps fade into the distance. Then he hears a low moan coming from below him.

“Kriff! Hugs!” Poe drops to his knees, laying careful hands on Hux’s shoulders. He’s curled up on his side, his hair tousled and blood seeping from a wound hidden in the red locks. He shudders at Poe’s touch and tries to shift away.

“It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He frowns, bending closer and moving some of Hux’s hair out of his face. His eyes are closed. “Hey, are you with me buddy?”

Hux makes a faint sound and his eyes flutter open, his unfocused gaze sliding past Poe.

Poe bites his lower lip and considers his options. He could use his commlink to call the medbay and have them send a droid while he waits here with Hux—but he feels rather exposed out here in the corridor. Those men could be circling back around and all Poe can think about is the fierce need to protect Hux from further harm.

Hux’s quarters, however, are no safer. The doors can’t be opened from the inside but there is a keypad that opens them from the corridor. Clearly those men had gained access somehow, meaning that even if Poe drags Hux inside and locks the doors they could always open them again. Poe doesn’t have his blaster and in any case would rather avoid actual violence against anyone, especially people on his own side.

Poe curses them mentally as he makes a decision.

“Listen.” He gets one arm under Hux’s back and grunts as he lifts the other man into a sitting position. Hux hisses in pain, his movements feeble and slow as he tries to hold his head up. “We gotta get you to my quarters, alright? Then I’ll call for a med-droid. You’ll be safe there and we’ll get you patched right up.” Hux is a dead weight against his chest and Poe blows out a breath.

“Hux?” He touches the other man’s jaw. Hux’s eyes open again, half-lidded as he painfully tilts his head to look up at Poe. A thin stream of blood trickles from his split lip and unthinkingly Poe wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “Can you stand up?”

There is something of a nod in response. Hux draws his feet up and Poe carefully maneuvers into a crouch, one arm supporting Hux around his lower back while the other draws Hux’s arm around Poe’s shoulders.

Hux stifles a moan and his free hand flies to his ribs as he jerks away.

“Easy, easy. C’mon, you got this.”

With a lot of coaxing and careful progress, Hux eventually makes it to his feet. He sways worryingly against Poe and only makes it a few steps before his knees start to shake.

“Kriff it,” Poe says. He bends to sweep Hux’s feet out from under him and scoops Hux up into his arms. “I always said you were a skinny guy, right? Guess this is my punishment for that.” Hux is rather slight for a man his height but the weight is still significant for the walk back to Poe’s quarters.

Hux makes another sound but his head lolls limply against Poe’s chest, eyes closed again. Poe can feel the heat of his breath through his shirt. He holds Hux tight against his chest.

Poe is breathing hard by the time he finally deposits Hux as gently as he can on the cot in Poe’s quarters. He turns and rushes to activate the lock on his door, then grabs the small comm unit from his pocket and requests medical aid.

With that done, Poe starts pacing.

Adrenaline is still charging through his veins. He feels like he’s just come back from a skirmish; there’s that familiar feeling of being too big for his surroundings, despite having crawled out of the cramped space of his X-wing cockpit. He needs something to do with his hands.

“Dameron?”

The voice is weak but it strikes through him like a stun bolt. Poe spins on his heel.

“Yeah? Hux?” He makes it to the bedside in three quick strides and kneels next to Hux’s head. Hux’s breathing is labored; Poe imagines those bastards probably fractured a few ribs, and a concussion isn’t out of the question entirely since Hux can’t seem to focus on Poe’s face, as much as he tries. His copper eyebrows, bright against his pale skin, furrow in concentration.

Fondness swells in Poe’s chest. Before he can stop himself he lays a hand on Hux’s temple, cupping the side of face. Maybe it’s exhaustion that makes Hux lean in to the touch. It’s very late, after all.

“Why are you doing this?” Despite the breathy and faint quality of his voice Hux’s tone is sharp. Poe smiles, recognizing the characteristic suspicion bordering on paranoia that—for some reason, stars only know—he finds endearing.

“Why am I doing what, Hugs?” Poe’s thumb traces back and forth, back and forth, over Hux’s skin just above his eyebrow, everything in him wanting to soothe the hurt away. “Making sure you’re safe? Getting you help? I couldn’t stand by while they hurt you.”

“They’re your allies.” Hux draws in a tight breath, wincing. “Will you be—” a pause, a pained inhale, “—reprimanded?”

“Are you worried about me, Hugs?” Poe cracks a smile, lets out a low chuckle as he shakes his head. “Nah, of course not. What those nerfherders did was deranged. They’ll be removed from duty as soon as I talk to Leia, I guarantee it. Animals,” he swears under his breath, expression turning dark. When he focuses back on Hux he sees an odd smile teasing at the man’s lips. He doesn’t notice that Hux has lifted a hand until he feels synth-leather on his chin.

Hux’s gloved thumb presses on the corner of Poe’s mouth.

“Angry,” he whispers, still smiling. Poe feels as if his stomach was yanked out of him, plummeting straight through the floor. He manages a strangled sound, something close to a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re damn right I’m angry.” When he feels the hand slipping Poe reaches up to grab it and press it back to his skin. His heart is slamming in his chest as his thumb brushes over Hux’s palm—over the glove, of course. Poe’s eye tracks to the length of pale wrist sticking out of Hux’s regulation First Order sleeve. A delicate column of white bookended by black, and black.

Poe presses his lips to the inside of Hux’s wrist, feeling the other man’s pulse flutter. Hux draws in a sharp, shallow breath.

“Oh.” His voice is so small, a delicate little exclamation that Poe wants to cradle in his cupped hands. He feels another laugh bubbling up inside him. Something giddy and effervescent is trying to escape and he tamps it down, just barely, a smile taking over his face as he places Hux’s hand gently on top of his chest.

A ping resounds from the doorway.

Poe turns and sees that the med-droid has arrived and is requesting access to Poe’s locked quarters—more of a formality than anything, as the droid is authorized to override the locks in case of a medical emergency. That’s not necessary at the moment, as Poe lets the droid in and moves back to stand as close to Hux as he can without getting in the way.

The droid helps Hux sit up and remove his shirt. Poe leans against the wall beside the cot and winces as he sees the bruises already blooming against Hux’s pale skin—fierce and red for now, they’re concentrated around his ribs. Though Poe sees a distinctive band of discoloration around Hux’s neck.

Anger flares in him again. Hux is their prisoner and they’re the good guys, damn it. He should feel _safe_ with them.

Hux is quiet and complacent throughout the examination. Poe watches him carefully—he seems a bit out-of-it, maybe just exhausted. The droid applies bacta patches to his ribs. Hux lifts a hand to part his hair, revealing the head wound, which gets similar treatment. The droid leaves him with a small tube of bacta gel for his smaller injuries—the split on his lip, the swelling that has started to reveal itself around one of Hux’s eyes, the bruises on his throat.

When the droid starts reeling off instructions and recommendations, Hux lifts a hand and gently pushes one of the mechanical arms away.

“Thank you,” he says tiredly. “Please, I’d like to rest now.” He carefully pulls his shirt back on, wincing as he threads his arms through the sleeves and leaving it unbuttoned as he slumps back against the wall, hands resting limply in his lap. Poe can’t help but let his gaze wander over Hux, entranced by his lean lines, his narrow waist.

The droid leaves and Poe locks the door behind it, then pads over to the small refresher. He fills up a canteen with water and then walks back over to Hux, dropping down onto the bed beside him and holding out the canteen.

Hux had been staring off mutely into the distance but his expression snaps back to the present as the bed jostles slightly and he realizes Poe is sitting next to him. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Wordlessly, he takes the canteen and drinks, wincing as he swallows.

Poe lets his head fall back against the wall.

He’s distinctly aware of Hux’s physical presence—their shoulders are barely an inch apart, their knees practically touching. He casts a sidelong glance at the other man. Hux seems more cognizant than before, when he’d breathlessly pressed his thumb to Poe’s mouth. Poe can’t help but wonder if that was a one-time thing, or…

“Hugs,” he starts off, his voice deep and sincere, “I’m real sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s alright, Dameron.” Hux’s voice is a bit slurred. He blinks slowly, then lifts a hand and pats Poe’s knee. His movements are slow, like he’s underwater—or maybe that’s just the effect he has on Poe. Everything slowing down as he watches, shocked and pleased, while Hux initiates physical contact with him again.

When Hux goes to move his hand back to his own lap Poe grabs it and places it back on his knee.

Hux doesn’t seem perturbed. He hums, closing his eyes, letting his hand slide a bit to the inside of Poe’s leg and then leaving it there—a warm presence, heavy with meaning.

“It’s really not,” Poe says, picking their conversation back up. “No one should hurt you. You came here willingly, you’re helping us win. Saving lives. That has to mean something.”

“Oh, Dameron,” Hux drawls, eyes still closed, “I’ll never make up for what I did. You know it as well as I do.”

Poe frowns.

“I don’t believe that,” he says quietly. “I don’t believe anyone is too far gone.”

“Well, you’re in the minority.” Hux’s fingers are moving carelessly over Poe’s thigh, stroking and plucking at the fabric of his trousers. Suddenly Poe reaches out and pulls Hux flush against his side. His arm is threaded around Hux’s shoulders as the other man leans against him and rests his head on Poe’s chest with a sigh.

“Yeah, but I’m right.”

“Stubborn.” Hux chuckles.

“You’re damn right I am.” Hux’s head is close enough for Poe to smell the bacta. Blood is still crusted in his hair and drying on the side of his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was assaulted.”

Poe snorts.

“Well, you can crash here tonight. I don’t think you should go back to your quarters.”

“No,” Hux sighs, “I suppose I shouldn’t.”

“I can, uh…” Poe looks around, trying to come up with an alternate sleeping arrangement for himself. He doesn’t have much in the way of extra blankets, otherwise he’d make a little nest for himself on the ground. He might just have to resign himself to a sleepless night—a few cups of caf in the mess should see him through more or less intact.

“Oh, just stay here.” Hux sighs again and leans forward to shuck off his boots, rubbing the side of his face. “I’m far too tired to care.”

“Are you sure?” Poe scoots over when it becomes clear that Hux is ready to lay down now and determined to do so, whether it be on the cot or Poe’s lap if he doesn’t get out of the way quick enough.

“Yes.” Hux pulls Poe down beside him. “You’re my ‘pet’, after all, so you might as well do as I say. And clearly you don’t mind this. Unless…?”

“No!” Poe says quickly. “No, I don’t mind at all.” He is, in fact, very happy with this development. As Hux rolls onto his side to face the wall he settles Poe’s arm over him, wincing slightly. The bed is small enough that Poe has little choice other than to scoot right up against Hux’s back. “This okay?”

“Perfectly adequate.” Poe cranes his head to look at Hux’s face. The other man’s eyes are already closed, his expression soft with exhaustion.

Poe rests his chin on Hux’s shoulder.

“I really hope this isn’t all cuz you’re loopy after being kicked in the head.”

Hux snorts.

“Shut up, Dameron. Let me sleep. I’ll decide in the morning if I was concussed.”

“Alright.” With a last soft chuckle Poe kisses Hux’s shoulder and curls up tight against him.

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely [DarthAstris](https://twitter.com/DarthAstris) made this stunning art of [prisoner Hux](https://66.media.tumblr.com/18cc58de3b85539579a1c5a8233dd571/f40171b70841cfff-33/s1280x1920/784cde390bc251e2fc4fc99a2dd4a5392aab88cc.png) ready for an unscrupulous interrogation! Thank you!!


End file.
